


The Wolf & the Rose

by lunacosas



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacosas/pseuds/lunacosas
Summary: For a year and a day, Jaskier is to stay with Eskel.Until the last petal falls, Eskel is to remain a beast, unless freed from the curse by true love's kiss.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #016





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For someone who requested some Eskel content!

He sits quietly at the table, the room well-lit and comfortably warm, his chair perfectly comfortable. As always, the plates at the table are never empty, the cups are always full. Food appears at will, enough to keep Eskel and his guest content. Across from him, Jaskier eats heartily, chattering between mouthfuls as he always does, unphased by Eskel’s silence. Jaskier has long since gotten over the bizarreness of the castle in which he’s confined, and his sentence seems bearable, if the way he smiles and chatters contentedly every passing day is anything to go by. For the first few months he struggled, but now that there are only two months left, he seems excited. He will have his freedom again.

Eskel, however, finds he has little appetite. His eyes remain downcast, unfocused in an attempt not to notice the beastly hands that are his own. The agreement with Jaskier’s family to shelter their wayward son for a year and a day is no longer worth all the wealth in the world. His own sentence is nearly over, forever. He hasn’t got much time left before there’s no going back, no hope of the curse being lifted. In his mind he knows there was no hope of it ever being broken, but his heart continued to hold out hope, unfairly bruising him with a dream that will never come to pass.

“Excuse me,” he finds himself saying. Jaskier stops for a moment, mid-sentence. Eskel can feel his gaze on him.

“Oh. Sure? Are you—?”

But Eskel has already left. He leaves Jaskier to entertain himself, knowing how content he is to settle down by the fire with his lute, or to peruse the wealth of books in the library. He wants for nothing but the company of others, particularly women, but his loneliness is not forever.

There is a part of the castle Jaskier is forbidden to enter. As far as Eskel is aware, Jaskier hasn’t even tried. It’s as if the west wing doesn’t exist to him, which suits Eskel just fine. His solitude is absolute as he walks down the dim hallway, the dark, wooden panelled doors heavy on either side of him. He stops at one, pausing, his breath exhaling in a shudder as he steadies himself and then reaches out, pushing the door open.

The room inside is almost empty. It was once a private library, but the books lining the shelves have remained untouched for years. They look on in silent vigil at the focal point of the room: a table, bearing a rose. The rose is no ordinary rose. It hangs, suspended by magic, glowing softly beneath the glass dome carefully placed over it. Eskel goes near, watching it, lamenting the last few frosted petals that have yet to fall, their edges glittering with ice, their redness deeper than blood. He has perhaps three months left, maybe four. Jaskier will be long gone by then, leaving Eskel to his fate, to watch the last petal fall alone.

Even with the glass shielding it, Eskel dares not breathe when he gets close. Long ago he learnt not to bring light near, not because it damaged the fragile rose, but because he could see himself in the glass, and being a beast was bad enough, but the scars he acquired when trying to leave had looked even worse. Now, he goes only by the soft glow the enchanted flower gives off, and feels his eyes sting and grow damp when a petal falls.

Three months, and then he will be a scarred beast forever.

-

There are no mirrors in the castle, except for in Jaskier’s rooms. Eskel never ventures there, and forbids him to bring any out. He can think of nothing worse than seeing what he is.

Jaskier, however, seems to love dressing up. The wardrobe is full of all the finery he could ever want, and he has taken to disappearing for long stretches of time, only to bounce into the drawing room to show off his latest outfit to Eskel, asking him for his opinion. At first, Eskel hadn’t minded. Jaskier enjoyed preening, and it had been rewarding to watch, to enjoy his happiness even if Eskel didn’t share his love of clothes. His compliments had always been honest, but careful, because from the moment Jaskier had turned up Eskel had been all too aware of how handsome he is. His family had needed to secret him away for a year for good reason, with angry husbands baying for his blood and demanding recompense for the insult and injury he’d caused them when he’d bedded their wives and daughters.

At first, Eskel hadn’t minded, but now he finds he has nothing to say. His heart is heavy, his tongue burdened with all the things he cannot say. He realises he has been selfishly enjoying having Jaskier all to himself, pleased to have company, delighted to engage in conversations and learn as much from Jaskier as Jaskier had learnt from him. The end is so close now, though, the real world beginning to encroach on the time they have left – a world Eskel will never rejoin. He can only squint at the light, wanting to feel its warmth but knowing he’ll never be part of that world again.

Jaskier, though… Beautiful, radiant, vibrant, wonderful Jaskier… It’s a cruelty to keep him caged, even if the reason for it was sound, and, other than the lack of company, he has been well provided for. Eskel looks at the latest outfit he’s chosen, and wonders if the spell that created it will allow it to remain in existence. He would like to make a gift of all the things Jaskier desires to take from his home, should Jaskier wish to have them.

It’s hard not to think what Eskel will be left with. The castle is his prison as much as it is Jaskier’s, but for him it is forever. He sees a flash of hurt on Jaskier’s face and he stands and walks out, unable to play along any longer and needing space. In a huge castle, it is hard to find, because what Eskel wants – what he needs – is his freedom. The best he can manage is the gardens. In daylight, he has to admit he is afraid of them, of the vulnerability he feels even though he knows all humans ought to be too far away to threaten him, and that no one would dare venture into his castle. The curse allows him the freedom of the grounds, but, all the same, he is afraid, and if it weren’t for the dying light he would remain indoors.

The maze is overgrown. It closes behind him and opens before him as he walks, letting him find his way through its tangled paths to the heart, where a fountain is flanked by a bench. The sound of the water is almost eerie, the wind rustling the hedges the only sign of life. He sits, head bowed, paws beside his oversized thighs. The breeze ruffles his fur and whiskers too, cool and sweet, bringing with it the scent of the forest beyond the grounds. It is far from calming. The memories of what happened will never fade from his mind, and the scars it left him with will never heal. It’s an ever-present reminder that he can’t leave, that if he tries all he’ll find is violence and pain.

How long he sits there, he doesn’t know. The sun has set, but the sky is too cloudy to see the stars, and there is no moon. Nothing has changed, the oppressive feeling just the same as it would be if he’d stayed inside. It has been so long since he felt the wind against his bare skin, the flakes of pain beneath his fingertips or knew the comfort of his old clothes. He will never know them again. He thinks of the rose, its last few petals, and realises with a heavy sense of finality what is to come once Jaskier leaves.

These last two months are all he has left.

He ought to be kinder, to make his legacy in the last few weeks he spends with another being one of gentleness and generosity. Jaskier deserves that much, at the very least, so that if he ever looks back on the time he was forced to spend in the castle he doesn’t remember willful mistreatment at Eskel’s hands. He didn’t deserve Eskel’s reservedness and abrupt departures; he has done nothing wrong.

Resolved to stop withdrawing, to give all Jaskier seems to want and desire, Eskel heads back towards the castle.

Jaskier is nowhere to be seen. Eskel assumes he must have retired for the night, although the absence of music coming from the library, as it often does in the evening, is disappointing. Eskel would have liked to have heard it. Perhaps tomorrow, he thinks, heading towards his own wing.

Three paces along the hallway, he realises something is amiss. It’s an almost imperceptible feeling, the slightest of shifts he can’t explain. It makes his heart race, his ears pricked forward as he tries to tell what’s happened. Something’s not right, something’s…

His caution is forgotten when he realises a door stands open. He tears towards it, frantic, fearful, and terrified when he looks in on the room.

“No!” he bellows.

Jaskier stands, frozen at the table, the glass dome in one hand while his other reaches out to touch the rose. His fingers are barely a breath from the petals, trembling as he stares at Eskel.

“Don’t touch it!”

Jaskier’s hand withdraws abruptly. “Sorry, I—”

“Put it back,” Eskel demands, his voice fragile and pleading to his own ears, shaking.

Silently, Jaskier replaces the dome. Even doing so carefully, his hands aren’t steady. He seems frightened, understandably jarred by Eskel’s wild appearance.

Only once the glass is back in place, Jaskier taking a step back, does Eskel feel some of the tension leave him. He is still trembling, his heart racing so fast he can barely think. He moves into the room, watching the rose. “My fate is tied to it,” he says. Jaskier deserves an explanation, at least.

Jaskier is watching the rose too. Eskel looks up at his face, his heart falling as he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, another petal falling. Jaskier sees it. His eyes widen, and he looks up, catching Eskel’s gaze with a frightened expression. “But… it’s dying?”

Eskel bows his head.

“How long…?”

Eskel swallows, trying to find his tongue, to reach for a reassuring lie. There are two petals left now. “Two years.”

Jaskier seems horrified. His jaw drops, a look of sadness coming across his face. “But that’s… The curse will end, right?”

Eskel has never told him about the curse, not in detail. Everyone knows, everyone whispers of him, using him as a cautionary tale or a way of frightening their children. Jaskier never asked, so Eskel never said.

He can’t meet Jaskier’s gaze.

“Eskel?”

He turns his body away as Jaskier crosses over to him, reaching for him.

“Eskel, please look at me.”

He can’t deny him, as much as he wants to. He meets those beautiful, clear blue eyes with his own beastly ones. A hand reaches up to cup his cheek, and the breath seizes within his lungs

“I’ll stay with you.”

The words are a cruel, sweet promise. Eskel shakes his head. “No,” he breathes.

“Yes,” Jaskier insists. “It’s only two years! I’ll stay, I want to. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Lowering his gaze, Eskel reaches for Jaskier’s hand. His paw closes around delicate human skin, and he’s as gentle as he can be as he pulls Jaskier’s hand away. “You have your own life to live.”

“But…”

“Go back to your rooms,” Eskel says as firmly as he can with the soft, fragile voice he’s been left with.

Jaskier seems dismayed, lost for a moment, and then defiant. He moves, and Eskel lets him, because he’s too stunned to stop him. He feels lips press against his, a firm, somehow desperate kiss, and he sighs, pushing Jaskier away.

“Go,” he repeats.

Jaskier falls back a step, seeming on the verge of tears. Eskel doesn’t know what he expected. He doesn’t know what Jaskier thought his fit of madness would bring him. “But I thought…”

Whatever Jaskier thought, he’s wrong. Eskel has nothing more to say either. His heart is too heavy, the ghost of Jaskier’s kiss too cruel. The curse remains unbroken, as he knew it would. Jaskier doesn’t love him. He only pities him.

And pity cannot break the curse.


	2. Chapter 2

He had been so careful to keep Jaskier an arm’s length away at all times. He never let him get too close, or to touch him. They were always seated opposite each other at the table, always in separate chairs when they passed the time together in the library or the drawing room. When they had walked together in the gardens, Eskel had kept to himself.

The touch – that kiss – had been jarring. Unexpected. It leaves Eskel unable to sleep, barely able to keep from weeping as he thinks about it. The tenderness of it hurts, not least of all because he’s imagining things that weren’t there. Jaskier is kind, but he is still human. There is nothing about Eskel that inspires tenderness or affection, only pity. And that’s almost the cruellest thing of all, that he was given a kiss he had never asked for, but it was for all the wrong reasons.

He longs for sleep. He longs for an escape from the thoughts that torment him, but it doesn’t come. He shifts restlessly in his bed, ill at ease, broken by the pain he feels. The sorceress’ curse was designed to do this, he knows. She wanted him to suffer, to be tormented and alone, trapped within his castle and robbed of company. Everyone had left. Visitors were few and far between, never staying long. And now Jaskier…

There’s movement in the darkness, and Eskel turns towards it, seeing his door pushed open and candlelight spilling in.

“Eskel?”

Jaskier’s voice sounds tight, threaded with anxiety. Eskel sits up sharply, and then remembers himself, pulling his covers up to hide him. “What are you doing here?” He still has no idea how Jaskier found his rooms, why he’s here now, of all times, when he never ventured into this part of the castle before.

To his dismay, Jaskier comes closer. By the light he carries, Eskel can see the worn, worried look he wears. “I’m sorry, I…”

He comes over to the bed, perching at the edge of it. His gaze is full of desperate earnestness.

“I went back. To look. Your rose… It’s…”

Dread grips Eskel’s heart. Jaskier went back? He could have done anything, could have destroyed it, and with it Eskel. 

And yet, he knows Jaskier wouldn’t do that. It’s not in his nature. If Eskel had asked or ordered him not to come back, Jaskier would have obeyed, but the words hadn’t been spoken. No promises were made.

“Another petal fell.”

His blood runs cold, the ability to breathe leaving him.

Jaskier looks grieved. “You don’t have two years, do you?”

He shakes his head without meaning to, answering the question and causing Jaskier to let out a choked sob.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?! How can you say that? Of course it matters!” Tears fall down Jaskier’s cheeks, stark in the candlelight. “Don’t say it doesn’t matter. Please don’t say that. Don’t lie to me.”

One hand unsteadily holding the candle, his other reaches for Eskel, brushing against covered knee.

“Is there any way to break the curse?”

Eskel doesn’t pull away. He’s too numb to move. “A kiss,” he says flatly.

“A kiss?” Jaskier echoes. “I don’t understand. I kissed you, shouldn’t that have—”

“Love,” Eskel adds. “It has to be love.”

“But—” Jaskier breathes, staring at him as if searching desperately for the answer. “But I love you.”

Eskel turns away, swinging his feet over the opposite side of the bed and leaving his back to Jaskier. He doesn’t want to hear the lie, no matter how well-meant it is. “Saying it doesn’t make it so.” With a sigh, he stares at the darkened window. The light from the candle is enough to cause a reflection, to let Eskel see the beautiful young man turned towards him, and his own hideous, beastly visage. He thought he’d have months. Now he isn’t sure he has a day.

“You’re free to go,” he decides. “You were always free, I couldn’t keep you if you decided to leave, but I’d promised your father to shelter you for a year and a day. Take anything you like. It might turn to nothing beyond the castle walls, but you’re welcome to try.”

“Eskel, why—?”

“But before you go, will you play for me one last time?”

Jaskier remains silent, and Eskel sighs, half turning towards him. Nothing matters now.

“I would like it if you did.”

Jaskier’s mouth hangs open, his cheeks damp with tears. After a moment, he seems to accept. “A request for a request?” he bargains.

Eskel nods. “Very well. What do you want?”

“Wait here,” Jaskier says, and when he goes he leaves the candle. After all, another will appear for him in the hallway.

Eskel uses the time to dress, to pull a robe about his unnatural body, before returning to the edge of the bed. There is nowhere else he’d rather sit. There is no moon, no stars to see if he were to throw open the windows and gaze up at the sky. The room he’s spent so much time in feels like a fitting place to remain as the curse becomes permanent, his chance at regaining the life he had before disappearing forever. Once Jaskier has played for him and left, he feels like he ought to sit with the rose, to keep a vigil over it.

Once Jaskier has played… His music is beautiful, his voice soothing. Forget the stars and the moon, Eskel will be content with this one parting gift from the world. He will cherish it.

Jaskier returns, his lute and a notebook hugged in one arm, another candle in his hand. Eskel’s attention falls on the notebook for a moment, and he recognises the deep red leather as one of the first notebooks Jaskier kept when he came here. He says nothing as Jaskier crawls onto the bed, kneeling, his lute set beside him as he flicks through the pages of the book. When he has found what he is looking for, he sets the notebook down, open at the page, and picks up his lute.

“It’s called ‘the wolf and the rose’,” he says. “I wrote it when, um…”

He plucks the first few notes, and Eskel doesn’t think he is going to get an explanation. It turns out to be in the song. Jaskier’s playing is more beautiful than ever, more heartbreaking. The song tells the story of a rose in love with a wolf, unable to move from the spot upon which it’s rooted, unable to be seen because what is a flower to a hunter? What kindness is there in ensnaring the creature it loves in its thorns? The wolf is alone, and in pain, and what does a rose have to offer?

He realises that the song is about him. It’s about them. He stills completely, listening to every word, every note reverberating through him. The song sounds practiced, loved, and so mournfully sweet. It breaks his heart. It breaks it open, until he’s struggling not to tremble, the truth hard to refute but still hard to believe even though he’s just heard it.

The song ends, and in the silence he has to say something.

“You love me,” he realises, believing it, his heart aching beyond the telling of it.

Jaskier is gently setting his lute aside, tenderly closing the notebook and holding it close to his chest. “Yes.”

“You…” he starts, but realises he doesn’t know what to say. The moment is too tender, too bruising. He swallows thickly, unable to face it. Instead he asks: “Your request?”

Jaskier shifts closer. “Kiss me?”

He would have objected before, but now, with finality hanging over him, he doesn’t have the words. Jaskier can see him. He knows what he is, what he looks like, and yet he loves him all the same. It wasn’t enough to break the curse, but Eskel now realises that perhaps it was never meant to be broken. There was no way for it to be undone, only the false, cruel promise of it. At least he can have this.

He nods, leaning carefully towards Jaskier, reaching out to touch his cheek and finding Jaskier leaning into the touch. Jaskier’s eyes fall closed, a soft breath escaping him. Eskel watches him, lost in his beauty, wishing these last few moments could last forever. They can’t, though, and even as he tries to commit them to memory Eskel’s own eyes fall closed as their lips press together. Warmth and light flow through him at the touch, happiness and love and sorrow all bound up in one, like sunlight and the stars, every achingly beautiful sunrise and sunset he’s ever experienced. He hiccups, realising his eyes have grown damp, and then realises that the feeling is real.

It’s real, and it doesn’t stop, even when he pulls away, gasping and trying to reach out to Jaskier to hold on as magic courses through him. Something has broken, a bond shattering, and it’s both terrifying and wonderful, his body becoming freed from the form it had been forced to hold for so long, changing back to how he used to be.

He is left gasping when it’s done, cloaked in the too-big gown, his hand grasped tightly in Jaskier’s.

“Eskel?”

Jaskier is watching him closely, his eyes wide as he leans forward. Eskel meets his gaze, pulling his hand back to feel his own face, aware that something isn’t right. His skin is pulling, his lip tugged up, as if…

The scars haven’t left him. The wound he sustained marrs one side of his face with deep gouges. The damage is permanent.

Jaskier seems to sense his disappointment. He reaches for Eskel, cupping his scarred cheek and gently rubbing his thumb against the ruined skin. “I had no idea you were handsome.”

“Am I?” Eskel wonders. It’s not something he was ever called, and he feels awkward back in his own body after so long spent as a beast. He had no idea Jaskier would ever see him like this.

“Yes,” Jaskier says.

And Eskel finds that, with all the persuasion Jaskier then proceeds to give, he is content to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't truly love someone you think only pities you (that's why the first kiss didn't work).


End file.
